The Way Things Were Meant To Explode
by Erick648364
Summary: This is an Omnibus of Halo Characters (some of my own devising) meeting with some interesting dilemmas. New Beginnings, Change an Event or Six, and We're Not in Kansas Anymore, Could you point the way to the nearest Moa? , Is Everything So Simple?. Galaxy spanning, as well as temporally expounding! Ratings and reviews make the fanfic get better!
1. Change an Event or Six-1

Change one event, or six, and another timeline appears before thee….

Six cursed inwardly as she threw off her helmet. The Elites were gaining on her. She turned, picked up a sword and kept running. At the top of a hill, she found herself cornered. Emptying a magazine into one Elite, she knocked another out, and then executed it with her pistol. She kept fighting, but their numbers were slowly gaining on her. She threw away her rifle; its ammo depleted, and drew her sword. More Elites fell. Her pistol clicked empty, and away it went. The sword in one hand and her knife in the other, hopping from Elite to Elite, she sliced and hacked her way through the pack.

But one Elite was lucky enough to grab onto her leg and throw her to the ground; where a red Zealot drew a dagger.

"Com'on ugly. Make my day" she taunted.

The Zealot looked her over for a second, adjusted its grip and stabbed her in the abdomen. It seared, and she chocked back a scream. A light appeared in the darkening sky. She thought of the rest of Noble Team, Carter, Kat, Jun, Emile, and Jorge. Heroes, all of them. She failed them, not living to see the mission through, to fight another day, to win the war for them. She felt time slow and tears roll down her cheeks. Before she began to walk into the light, she heard a voice, the voice of an obnoxious Spartan-III who journeyed with her when she was assigned to Noble, "_The one thing that would make you a better person, to me personally, is if you gained a bit of humor instead of growling at me like a deranged jungle cat._" Then the light opened fire on the Elites, and the whine of engines was heard. Obscure armored figures jumped out of the sides of the loud noise, and killed the rest of the Elites. Six was about to fade away when something shocked her into consciousness. Jorge. His helmeted face appeared before her, working a medical pack. She began to feel the biofoam course through her veins as it countered the poisoned plasma dagger. Emile's shotgun boomed in unison with Jun's rifle, and Kat was retrieving Six's helmet. Six looked perplexed. This wasn't supposed to be happening, they died…

Kat looked over at Jorge and Jorge gave a thumbs up. Good to go. He picked her up and carried her onto the Phantom dropship, where Carter and Rosenda were busy keeping the Covenant away. After strapping in, it boosted for altitude. Jorge tended to Six, while Jun and Emile fended off Covenant reinforcements. Carter gunned the engines, and the Phantom clawed for altitude with a hefty whine in the engines.

After evasive flying for half an hour, Carter took the Phantom down to 3,000 meters, and set the cruise control. Kat came forward when the engines slowed to Carter. She leaned against the opposite side of the cockpit from him, and watched him relax for a few minutes. She smiled to herself, for even seeing him relax, the first time since she found him amongst the wreckage of the Pelican and Scarab, and coming up with this harebrained plan to find and rebuild Noble, then to get off the planet.

She began to ponder the highly classified comms she had sliced before she got shot. Apparently, a small UNSC Mako-class corvette had been secreted away into a highly armored bunker, safe from ALL prying eyes and sensors, including the Covenant's highly developed ones. Apparently not all the orbit capable transport was gone. This time, everything hinged on Command lying to them. Her smile returned. Wouldn't be a Noble mission if it were easy, as Carter would say.

Jun looked out through the viewports as the Phantom cruised past Noble Base, or the slag heap that was left of it. He shuddered, thinking of the beautiful landscape that bordered it, and of Christmas, now long past. He smiled in remembrance, and was glad for the helmet concealing his face from Emile and Jorge who would have most certainly pestered him about why they slunk off to the armory. He glanced over at Emile; the assault specialist was contemplating joining Kat in the area behind the cockpit, slouched in one of the harnesses that he managed to half way configure to something resembling comfortable, and sharpening his precious. He saw Jun wince as they passed Noble base, so he looked as well, and also winced. He looked at the kukri, carefully examining the blade for imperfections, then re-sheathed it. He smiled at the memory of when Carter caught him and Rosedna on the floor of the armory, then Kat came in and his mind was slapped back into reality.

Jorge was almost calm. Six wasn't in good shape, but at least she was stable. For the time being. That plasma dagger did more damage than the wound let on, and he had to have Kat slice her armor for him to work properly on her. Now that he was done, and the drugs were taking their effect, he tended to his machine gun, cleaning the ammo feed, made sure that the barrel cooled properly, and then thought about modifying his gun to match a covenant machinegun.

Six was in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Noble team…alive? How? Jorge went on a one way slip-space jump, Kat was sniped, Jun disappeared, Carter crashed into a Scarab, and Emile died with an Elite's energy sword through his chest. Six remembered checking him to make sure he was dead, then booby-trapping him to ward off Covenant treasure hunters. Then she snapped into full consciousness as the medical drugs boosted her self-repair system into hyper-overdrive and the bleeding stopped, organs began to heal themselves, etc. Jorge looked up from his gun in surprise as she sat up and shook her head, clearing the cobwebs.

"Six, I thought you'd be out for at least another day with the amount of drugs I pumped into you," he said, a warm smile on his face. The rest of Noble looked over at her as well. There was a bit of a reunion as they celebrated surviving against impossible odds, then to find each other. Then came the stories. Jorge, being the first to kick the bucket, was the first to go.

"Well Six, you remember those Sabres that you flew in? Landed on the top deck? Yeah, I had Auntie Dot slow the cruiser so I had enough time to scavenge parts from the Sabres to get the timer working. Then I took a bird myself, and got outta there before I was swallowed by the slipspace vortex. Played the devil's game with my transponder though. Comms too. Took me a few days to make it back to UNSC lines after my bird crashed," He recounted. He smiled at Six, as she scooted over and leaned against him, content for the first time in days, still listening to the stories.

"Alright, my turn," Kat smirked from the doorway, "Well, that sniper wasn't as good as he thought he was. My shields failed, that is true. The bullet passed through my helmet, that is also true. What isn't true, obviously, is that I didn't get hit. My bio monitor didn't like getting shot, so it passed the shard out the underside of my helmet, and I passed out. None of you bothered to check on me for days. I woke up as I was about to get buried, surprised the bejezzus outta the poor marines, and everyone else in fact," another smug smile, "But then comes the question, why didn't I return? Well, at that moment, I was at planetary command. What better place to look for a Spartan Team deployed in the field than to follow classified comms? No better let me tell you. Ran into Jorge on his way to civilization. Offered him a ride, and he foolishly climbed in."

"Kat, I still don't forgive you for these pains I'm waking up with. I've got bumps and bruises from all the rocks you intentionally hit," he shifted, easing pressure on his backside to emphasize his point. Noble Six had a few laughs.

"So anyways Six, Me and Jorge are riding along in this godforsaken wasteland, and who do we find? Jun. Says that you guys left him to guard Doc Halsey without his sniper rifle."

"Yeah, Carter tells me to watch Doc Halsey without my rifle. And I'm glad he did. Otherwise I've been a click away watching her through my scope, making sure she was ok that way. She did not stop complaining. Cake eating civvie," he muttered.

"Can it Jun. That lady is the one who gave you your armor," Carter half-growled as he walked into the troop bay," I dumped all my energy into my shields and locked my armor on impact. I woke up a while later, when who else but Kat, Jorge, Jun and Rosenda show up in a Phantom with a wild story about finding the rest of Noble. Then we found Emile with a plasma grenade hooked into his sapper harness. Six ,that was a devil of a time to unravel. But enough story telling for now Noble, our next objective is to get off the planet. Kat will tell you how. Afterwards you can get back to how we somehow survived certain death." His arm was already around Kat, and he let it cling to her as she walked out of arms reach to the center of the pack.

"Listen up, cause I'm only going to say this once. We've got a shot at getting off planet; a Mako-class corvette was laid up for Special Purposes, i.e ONI was turning it into a spy ship. Spy ships are what class?" she asked.

"Invisible to enemy radar and other sensors, but never visual," Noble replied in unison. Kat smiled a hunter's smile, the one Carter liked the best. She had ideas coursing through her head, and every one of them involved lots of dead Covenant.

"That's right class. Everything but visual. This one's called the _Bramblefin_. Brand-spanking new, complete with AI. And not a "dumb" AI like Dot, but a smart one. We've hit the jackpot. We can't find another ship like this on the planet or in existence. Let's get down to specifics….."

By the end, Six had recuperated at an astonishing rate, even for a Spartan. Her part of the plan would be to play scout with Jun to cover the dropship's approach to the bunker entrance. Sensors would be useless inside, due to the nature of the facility, and its shielding. The rest of Noble would put down a couple klicks north, in the mountains and hide out there, waiting for the go signal from either Six or Jun. Once the go signal was sent, they'd move fast to get to the facility before any Covenant traced the signals. Inside, they'd start up the ship and leave for orbit. Simple, but nothing with Noble is ever simple.

She picked up a DMR and an assault rifle and the appropriate ammunition. She stayed by Jorge's side until it was time to drop, then she followed Jun thought the hole in the floor. No one had noticed that Rosedna had slithered silently to Emile's side, where they were sharing a few moments of them-time.

Six hit the ground and sprinted for the tree line. "Six, don't move so loudly. We're trying to stay quiet, remember?" Jun said from his tree branch. She double clicked her mic acknowledgement. Jun climbed down and they moved out, silently, waiting and watching, alternating who walked point and who had what sensors active. After a half hour, Carter clicked his mic. The rest of Noble was in position and awaiting the go code. She nodded to Jun, and they attached silencers. Triple click into the mic to tell Carter what's going on. Double click back. Hand signals exchanged. Move forward; silently; no dip, I thought we'd be parading in; go soak your head.

The rest of the walk to the bunker was uneventful. No Covenant in sight, but the door was blown in. Jun signaled Carter, and the pincers closed in. After Carter arrived, Noble stacked up on either side of the door. Jun swapped his sniper rifle for his DMR, and Six took out her assault rifle. Emile checked his shotgun, Jorge his turret, Rosedna her Spartan laser, rocket launcher and pistol, Carter his DMR and pistol, and Kat her pistol. All silenced. Carter signed GO. They went. Six took point, then Emile, Jorge, Jun, Carter, Kat, and bringing up the rear was Rosedna. After clearing and finding nothing, the Team began to get disheartened. They gathered in the mess hall and dug out some rations before planning their next move. Emile was leaning against a wall, Rosenda half on top of him. She began to slip, and put her hand out to catch herself. Her hand brushed a switch hidden in the wall, and she continued her fall to the floor until Emile caught her by the front of her armor. Even behind his helmet, she could see him smiling as he said "Gotcha babe."

The switch opened a door, little small for a fully armored Spartan, but manageable. Six reluctantly broke off from Jorge's side to take point, this time, Jorge walked second. The door led into a tunnel, which lead into a massive chamber, which a matte-black Mako-Corvette occupied. Noble team smiled and thanked the gods that the corvette was even here.

They boarded the corvette, and were greeted by the ship's onboard AI "Well, well, if it ain't Noble Team. About time you showed up. I'm warming the engines now, prep for sudden accell. And one more thing? I don't care about relationships. Have 'em if you want 'em but don't let it interfere with your work. If someone dies cause of it, you're getting spaced."

Carter looked at Kat. Kat looked at Carter. Jorge looked at Six. Six looked at Jorge. Emile looked at Rosenda. Rosedna looked at Emile. Jun looked around, sighed, and went to find a room to clean his rifle. Carter and Kat went forward to inspect the bridge, Emile and Rosedna went to find the armory and the galley, leaving Jorge and Six in the main hallway, standing kinda awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

At length, Jorge spoke up. "Six, I know you care about me, and I care about you. But to me, you're the daughter I never had."

Six was greatly relieved. She smiled under her helmet. "Jorge, I wouldn't have it any other way. I hope you know that."

She removed her helmet, and he did his. She smiled a warm smile and said "I'm going to go find Jun."

"I'm going to inspect Medbay. After dinner, come and see me, and we'll finish patching you back together, alright?" he replied. Relief was evident in his face.

"Sure, after dinner." Six turned and walked silently down the hall after Jun.

Carter and Kat were enjoying themselves in the bridge of the corvette while the AI handled takeoff. The others would think otherwise afterwards, but Carter and Kat were really behaving themselves. Carter sat in an accel couch, and Kat sat on him, her face buried in his chest, and her arms around his neck. Carter held her close, gently stroking her back, basking in the warm serenity of having his family back together and to relax with the woman he loved. The AI promised to warn them before he accelerated past the Covie defenses.

Emile and Rosenda? Well, let's not bother them just now. There's a little more than pots and pans banging in the kitchen. Let's go bug Jun.

Jun was in the compartment he chose for himself, wide panoramic view of space, and filled with nothing but a cot he liberated from a bunk room, and some supplies from the cargo hold. He sat on the floor, rifle disassembled in front of him, delicately inspecting, cleaning and lubricating each and every single part before finally reassembling the rifle.

After putting it back together, he picked up a few empty magazines and ran himself through some drills to help him improve reloading under fire from the prone position he thought about. Somewhere in the middle of the drills, he became lost in his little imaginary world, when he rolled a little too far and hit something solid, with a metal on metal KLANG. Rubbing his head, and got up and looked around. His room was still empty, but he thought he saw a shimmer of movement on his sensors…

Six looked at Jun from her position on his cot. After a methodical search of the room, save for his cot, he seemed satisfied that his shoulder piece must have made the noise. She allowed herself a smile as he went about the search, careful to not make too much noise. All those years of stalking other humans, then the Covenant Elites are finally paying off.

Jun returned to his rifle drills, a little miffed that he missed whatever he had hit. It's not like him to miss something, but he felt that his search was sufficient. He was alone once more. But then Six climbed off his cot, intentionally squeaking it. Jun whipped his rifle around, temporarily forgetting it wasn't loaded, and aimed it directly at Six, even though she was cloaked. She crept forward until she was about to touch the muzzle break of the powerful anti-material rifle, then she deactivated her cloaking device. Jun leapt about a meter off the deck with a yelp of surprise and almost dropped his precious. Six looked at his disheveled state, and couldn't help chuckling. Jun removed his helmet and glared at her. Although he was mad on the outside, on the inside he was doing a bit of thinking. _I wonder how long she was watching me. Is this her own weird way of flirting? Would I be best to leave this be or to take this up with Jorge? She had a thing for him a while ago..._

"Jun, you look like you've seen a ghost," Six whispered huskily, making him all that more uncomfortable. This elicited more chuckling as she turned to leave. "Jun, you poor, poor, semi-deranged sniper you." With that, she was gone, her footsteps silent on the decking while she hunted for a room to crash in before dinner.

(_Author's note: The previous scene switches happened in a matter of about a minute, just enough time for the AI to prep the _Bramblefin _for takeoff. Keep reading!_)


	2. Change an Event or Six-2

The AI broke the connections to the underground base, and began the countdown to lift off. Noble Team scrambled for accel couches, and almost everyone made it. Emile was strapping Rosenda in when the AI hit the big red button so to speak. The acceleration hit Emile like a train in 'roid-rage. He flipped over the couch after bouncing off it; then he hit and stuck to the bulkhead behind the couch, and stayed there until the still unknown AI got them into orbit. Then things got flashy.

Kat clung to Carter and Carter clung to the couch with one hand, and the other to Kat. Kat screwed her eyes shut and went to her happy place as the AI dodged the few Covenant picket ships left after the _Pillar of Autumn_ took the majority of the fleet to who knows where.

"Carter, I suggest you get Noble Team into something resembling fighting positions, we've got Covenant boarding party inbound. I won't be able to jump until after they've docked."

"Roger that. You heard the man Noble, prep to repel boarders. Kat, I'm going to need any and all access to this ship's spaces. Six, I need a welcoming party. AI, do you know where the Covenant are going to land?" Carter rattled off, letting instincts take over. Noble acknowledged and moved about.

"Yes I do. They're approaching the topside boarding hatch. ETA is four minutes. Slip-space capacitators charged in ten minutes," the AI said.

Six charged down the hallway to the topside hatch. Hefting a grenade, she rigged it to explode with an old time tripwire. Then realizing she needed more components, she had Rosenda fetch some more grenades, and Emile to give her a hand. When he arrived, he found her and Kat modifying some spare covenant equipment that they found in the Phantom, one of which was a cloaking device.

"Emile, come here," growled Six. Emile'd never seen her like this before. He obliged, and was rewarded with Six and Kat yanking his explosive charges off his harness. He was about to say something when Kat spoke up. "Later Emile. No time. Sharpen your knives yet?"

He growled something after his vest was empty of charges, and left to find Rosenda and his shotgun.

Jun came out of his room and found Jorge in the armory with a machete and a roll of tac-tape. "Jorge, what exactly are you going to do with that?" asked Jun as they ran down the hallway to where they would ambush the Covenant.

"Everyone has a knife except for me. I figured I'd get something to play with when the Covies get a little too close for comfort," he replied.

"Yeah, but why the tac-tape?" said Jun. They arrived at Jorge's position, his machinegun sitting on a box of ammo, and the front sandbagged.

"Ever heard of a bayonet?" Jorge said distantly, busy attaching the machete to the underside of the barrel.

Carter was walking among the rest of Noble, making sure they were properly prepared. He stopped walking along a corridor that led to the barracks, when he saw Rosenda run past with an armful of weapons. "What exactly are you doing?" he asked.

"Stashing them all over the place, in case we need to fall back. Medkits are in with each stash, and also spread about the ship on the standard docs, " she reported.

"Good work, we just might need them before this is over," he said.

"Noble Team, Covenant are one minute out," the AI said over the intership comm.

"Noble, get in your positions NOW!" Carter barked into the comm. Jun scrambled so he could get a nice long shot at the hatch, and then activated his active camouflage. Sparks began to fly around the hatch as plasma torches cut into it. Six waited for the first Covenant to show itself before opening fire with the DMR. The poor Grunt's head exploded and confetti rained down while the others cheered. Jun opened up on the Elites, scoring headshots more often than body shots; Carter, Jorge and Kat waited on one side of the hallway just behind Jorge, with Emile and Rosenda on the other side. Emile twitched with every cheer that arose from the rapidly depleting ranks of Grunts. Six's hand went to reload her DMR when it grasped nothing but air.

"I'm out!" she cried. She rose to a crouch, tossed a plasma and frag to the Covenant then caught the pistol that Jun tossed her. She resumed firing from around the corner. After another minute, Jun cried "I'm out as well!" and moved out of his position carefully. Jorge took this to be his cue to lumber into the middle of the hallway and unload into the aliens. Carter motioned the rest of Noble forward while Jun and Six ran to get ammo.

"Noble, I'll have you know that the picket ships are forty-five seconds behind us now. I suggest you detonate that booby trap of yours. It's in place to knock out the dropship's controls," the AI said over helmet comms.

Six nodded and pressed the detonator. The resulting explosion did indeed knock the Phantom away from the hatch, but it also caused the dropship to collide with the engines before the AI jumped into slip-space.

"Carter."

"Yes AI?" he replied.

"My name is Ceta, for the record, " the AI said, slightly annoyed that he didn't introduce himself beforehand, "and that dropship collided with our engines. I'm afraid we'll have to drop out early; otherwise we're never going to drop out at all. The slip-space alignment coils have been misaligned a millimeter."

"I see. Keep us in slip-space for as long as you can," Carter said after a minute of thinking, "We'll put ourselves into cold storage until you find a rescuer. I'll go brief the rest of the Team."

Six looked at the slip-space drive in the engine room. The bulbous thing, the most expensive piece made by man, gets touched, and it's out of whack, leaving Noble stranded.

"What a great piece of technology," she grumbled. She walked over to a control bank and pulled up the status of the engine, and reviewed its specifications. She may not have been an engineer, specifically trained to do this, but she found something whacko with the specifications.

"Carter? Kat? You might want to see this," she said, watching the gauges tell her things that shouldn't be possible.

Carter had been giving Kat a rub down after removing their armor. Noble was taking some down time, save for Six, who was in the engine room. For what reason, Carter didn't have the time nor the will to contemplate; Kat was beckoning from the doorway to their room.

Ceta had the small fabrication shop in the ship working to produce some slacks for the Team, but it would be a few hours to get everything complete. He didn't mind. The undersuit is protective, skin tight, and comes off with the slide of a finger. He was working Kat into a purr over some new ideas he thought he'd try when his helmet comm chimed.

"_Carter? Kat? You might want to see this_," Six said, sounding a little worried.


	3. Change an Event or Six-3

Carter and Kat entered the engine room where Six was working, still in her armor. She was probably the only one who hadn't changed at this point. When Six noticed that her superiors weren't wearing their armor, she popped the seals on her helmet and set it on the console, right over an ugly coffee stain.

"I've found something unusual with our engines. That misalignment is sending us somewhere, but I don't know where," she began.

"Six, what do you mean," Carter said, cutting her off, "I don't understand. Somewhere where we don't know where it is? Six you're sick. Take look down to medbay after dinner, which is in a few minutes."

"Sir, with all due respect, up yours," Kat began to move towards the insubordinate Lt when Carter put a restraining hand on her, "I'm not crazy. Have that AI, Ceta or whoever he is, tell you that ONI was preparing to jump to another galaxy when they designed this thing. The misalignment that would normally destroy any other vessel."

"So then do you know where we are going?" He asked, after a while. Six shook her head.

"No, I don't. That's up to wherever this drive spits us out," Six jerked her thumb at the offending object.

"Noble Team, your dinner is served in the main dining hall," Ceta reported with a fancy air about his voice, "Uniform for dinner is whatever you please."

Noble Team showed up in the dining hall for dinner, and were astonished at what they saw. Ceta had converted the whole place into a formal dining room, and as they were seated, Ceta used holoprojectors to give Noble properly formal attire, based upon their armor colors. Jorge was wearing a fantastic suit in grey with a gold and red tie. Carter's frame was projected in a dark blue suit with a silver tie, and Kat, who was on his arm, was wearing a dress flowing in a lighter shade of blue with silver sequins. Emile is wearing black suit with a sharp red tie, while Rosenda is garbed in a skin tight silver dress. And Six and Jun came in last: Six in a wondrous matte grey flowing dress and Jun in a smart forest green suit.

Jun and Six looked at each other and blushed. The other members of Noble were paired off with one another; save Jorge, who was dining with a female form of Ceta. Shaking in anticipation and anxiety. To him, Six never looked more beautiful, although when she was picking off Elites from over a mile away was a VERY close second. She smiled as his jaw worked, trying to find a good opener. Failing this, he sighed in defeat.

"I'm not a very social person," he said, resigned.

"Yeah, neither am I really. I've never had good reason to be," she shrugged, "All those classified missions with ONI doing everything under the sun plus some."

"What do you mean?" he asked, grateful that someone had granted this avenue of escape from embarrassment.

"Well, I'm under strict orders to not talk to anyone about them," Six began, but was interrupted by Ceta.

"Lt, you realize that I have no records of any such ONI protocol, correct?" he asked. _I wasn't sure that AI's could play matchmaker_, thought Jun.

"Ceta, I was not. If you would please make sure our conversation is private?" Six asked sweetly.

"Madam Six, I already took the liberty," both Six and Jun swore they heard the smile in Ceta's voice.

"So Six, ah I can't do this," he said, flustered, "I can't keep calling you Six off duty. What IS your name?"

Six looked puzzled at Jun. "My name is Spartan-B312, callsign Noble Six."

He sighed, "I mean before you came into Noble. When you were a lone wolf. You trained with Kat, so you must have a name. I know Kurt, and he wouldn't let something like a Spartan without a name leave his base."

"Well, I'm sorry to say, but-"

"Jun, I'll have you know that since I have no ONI restrictions, I was able to copy their database before we left. Everything, including our lovely Lt's name. I can tell her, if she so chooses" the AI interrupted.

Six thought for a moment before answering slowly. "I guess…yeah, it's alright with me Ceta. What's my name?"

"Six, your name is Erica Konrad, or Erica-B312," the AI replied and bade them a good dinner. Jun spoke first.

"Erica, huh? That's a beautiful name," he said as dinner arrived, "Quite fitting in my humble opinion."

Six/Erica tried to hide her blush by examining her food. Looked good, medium-medium rare steak, about a pound of the deliciousness, wrapped in maple sugar bacon. She didn't know what was and wasn't appropriate for a fancy dinner, so she guessed this sufficed, and cut a sizable hunk off before eating it.

Jun's sniper trained eyes picked out the blush Erica hid without a problem, and followed her example by examining his dinner. Steak, just like hers. He cut a small piece off the edge, and began to chew. He could taste the spices, but wondered why it was so chewy.

"Jun, that's animal fat. Not supposed to eat it," Ceta whispered into his internal comm. Jun, still chewing, looked for a napkin.

"Jun, just eat it. You're going to gross out your date if you do what I think you're going to do", Ceta answered Jun's fears. He swallowed, struggling a little because he hadn't had steak before.

Carter looked over his "steak" and wearily eyed Kat as she methodically devoured hers. He began to cut pieces off of his before her conquest of meat spilled onto his plate. A bottle of extra seasonings sat in the middle of the table, and he noticed that Ceta had given each of the tables their own privacy bubble, even though they were less than three meters from one another. Then he realized Kat was talking to him.

"…so that's what I think we should do to keep Noble active while we're in slip-space," she finished, "What do you think?"

"I think it's a good plan. We should start tomorrow, but not too early. I want to experience this 'sleeping in' that the ODST's continually want," he replied, thinking fast. Years of combat leadership, and what does he use it for? Making sure his girlfriend believe he was listening to her.

"Carter, that's sweet of you, but I didn't really say anything," Kat said, the grin she wore on her face gave her that sexy predator look Carter loved to see, but not directed at him, "I noticed you had zoned out, so I began blabbering, and when I noticed you were beginning to tune back in, I finished off. So you think we should make Jun clean Jorge's gun with his skivvies? Or do you prefer Emile polishing all the cooking gear while Rosenda uses his kukri to make dinner for the voyage?"

He sighed in defeat. While he was a good tac commander, Kat always had some sort of harebrained plot to either get them medals, body bags, or both. There were two operations he could name off the top of his head that fit into those categories. The one where Thom died taking out a Covenant carrier, and the other one where Kat got sniped, and he thought she was dead until she showed up at his crash site with a warthog, Jun and Jorge. He remembered laying there until he heard the warthog's engine approach.

"Nope, but I really do want to sleep in tomorrow," he said.

"Why do you want to sleep in?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"I think we'll have a busy night, _settling in_," he replied. Kat smiled a different smile now. This one wasn't mischievous, predatorial, but seductive. Seductive in a dark, dangerous way. _She really does know me_ thought Carter.


	4. Change an Event or Six-4

Jorge was having quite the time telling jokes and playing some honest cards with Ceta. He wouldn't go for anything other than hand dealt cards. Electronic cards just seemed like a bad idea to him. He picked this game up from a Marine unit that had an ethnic German with them. Called "Mau-Mau", it's similar to Spanish "Uno", only faster, and with fewer cards. Sure Jorge had to shuffle the deck each time, but he'd rather be doing this than getting cheated on. Jack of hearts is on the pile, serving as a wild card.

"Diamonds" calls Ceta. The holographic avatar he projected shifted, making himself more comfortable.

Jorge examines his hand. _No diamonds. The Jack. Do I use it, or save it for a rainy day..? No._ He picks up a card with one hand and stabs a hunk of grilled meat dabbed in sauce with his fork with the other one. "Ceta" took a sip of wine and played his next card, the ten of Diamonds. _Finally!_ he thinks to himself as he chews on the delicious steak Ceta had the bots grill. He plays the ten of Spades. Ceta picks up a card from the draw pile, and Jorge plays the seven of Spades. Ceta shoots him a glare as he lays down the seven of Diamonds. _Damn, I almost had 'im_. Jorge draws four cards from the pile and sits back, examining his new cards, strategizing. He looked around at the three other tables. _To each their own poison_ his mind whispered and he chuckled. Ceta looked up.

"Something up Jorge?" he asks. Jorge shakes his head.

"Just something I heard on a planet a long time ago" he replied. He looked up to see Rosenda and Emile laughing. He smiled at their enjoyment of each other as he played his Jack of Diamonds.

"Bloody Spades," he growled, pretending to be frustrated.

Rosenda found herself laughing as Emile went about describing some of his antics as a trainee under Kurt.

"…And so then this trainer walks over to Geoff and says 'What the HELL are you doing?! Geoff then says 'I'm doing what the hell I fucking want to cocksucker' " Emile and Rosenda roared with laughter. He takes another bite out of the steak that Ceta prepped. _God, it's about as awesome as Rosenda's cooking._

"Attention Noble Team, we will be arriving out of Slipspace in three days, twenty hours, five minutes, three and a half seconds from now. Destination: Oblivion," Ceta remarked chillingly over the Comms system.

"Go to hell Ceta!" Emile cried in mock frustration, feeling the effects of the wine they were served. Rosenda laughed so hard Emile had to reach over and hold her steady. They laughed harder and harder into the evening before Ceta sent them to their quarters. The Team did not rouse until late the next morning; For Spartans, at least.

The three days went by without much going on. Noble turned out for meals, some exercise and a little target practice and sparring to keep their skills sharp. Carter, Kat, Rosenda and Emile were the rarest to be seen. Jorge tended to the equipment in his down time, and Jun spent time learning to better fight up close with Erica, and Erica found herself growing fond of the anti-social sniper.

When the _Bramblefin_ exited Slip-space when Ceta predicted, they emerged on the fringes of a nebulae overlooking a desert planet. Everyone was on the bridge, save for Six and Jorge in the engine room, making sure everything went according to plan.

"All a head full, let's see where we are," Carter ordered from the captain's position. Kat clicked her acknowledgement light and set course for a patrol through the system. The Spartans of Noble Team were fully outfitted for anything. Suits sealed, weapons cleaned and loaded in arms reach, and ship on lock down with MAC cannon and other weapons systems at 75% readiness.

A shadow hung back in the nebulae, out of range of the limited sensor suite that the UNSC Corvette had. The large ship, silver and triangular, crept along to the edge of the nebulae before engaging the hyper-drive, and fleeing the scene. Unfortunately, as all ships here are shielded against back lash, the _Bramblefin _was not.

"Jorge! Six! Ceta! SOMEONE GET THOSE GENERATORS BACK ONLINE," Carter roared above the klaxons. Jorge, Six and Ceta were scrambling to get the generators back online, but it was no use. The planet loomed large in the viewscreens as Carter made a decision.

"Load everything you can into a Pelican and fly it out of here. Each of us takes a Pelican, maximize our cargo capacity, and everyone takes a hog. I don't care what type of hog, but a hog nonetheless. Move Noble! Ceta, I'll be pulling you before I launch. Mark an LZ for us to rendezvous at." With that, he jogged down the corridor to the cargo and launch bays, where Noble was scrambling to get everything set.

Jorge and Jun gave Erica a hand loading ammo and food onto her Pelican, and then the favor was returned. The big man strapped his machinegun to a part of the cargo bay where he could get it before bailing from the Pelican. The others thought this was a good idea and followed suit. Kat got her precious electronics aboard, and Carter gave her the AI to hang on to. Her Pelican was the first to get kicked off the ship.

Next up was Emile. His had been loaded with ammo for every kind of weapon Noble fought with, and lots of food and water. He sealed the VTOL up and then it joined Kat's bird heading in-atmosphere. Rosenda, then Jorge, then Erica, and finally Carter ejected from the _Bramblefin_ before it hit atmosphere. A copied subroutine of Ceta's was piloting the ship now. The seven Pelicans formed up on Carter's location and command, then they entered atmosphere to follow the Corvette down into the dirt to see if they would be able to either

A) Set up camp in the ship itself, or

B) If they could find a suitable place to put down and make camp before moving on to find a settlement.

Carter hoped for the best as the cockpit began to glow re-entry orange.

They set down on the planet without much difficulty, breaking over sand dunes en route to the crash site and having lost only two of the seven hogs in re-entry. Jun spotted the _Bramblefin_. She was lying upright and mostly out of the sand, even after crashing and burning.

When Noble arrived at the site of the wreck after caching most of their gear and a Pelican at a secret location (it's in the middle of a flipping desert, for everyone to see) , the ship had burned considerably, rendering most of the equipment on board inoperable. Oh, wait. Starships are built with the intention to NOT burn. But this one did anyways.

Erica and Jun were patrolling the barracks to see if any spare clothing made it through the fire. So far, after having gone through about half the rooms, there was nothing but soot and ash.

"Jun, do you have any clue as to what kind of plan Carter is going to have?" she asked, breaking the silence between them.

"No, I don't. It's hard to tell these days what is Carter's and what is Kat's. But, I do have a feeling that we're going to make out on the pelicans in pairs until we die, heading in each direction. That's about all I can think of at the moment," he replied, rummaging through the remnants of a charred footlocker.

"Find anything?" she asked at length.

"Nada. Time to bail," he said with a hint of sorrow. Things just got a little worse, and they weren't looking up.


	5. New Beginnings-1

Reach outer orbit, 2552

"In my opinion, the one thing that would make you a better person," I said, pushing myself off the bulkhead of the UNSC _Kadieon_, "would be if you gained a basic comprehension of humor, instead of growling at me like a jungle cat every time I try to talk to you."

Across the bunkroom from me, Spartan B-312 glowered at me. Yes, I can tell she's glowering. Her shoulders are slumped, her arms are folded across the chest, head cocked that certain angle, and what else? Nothing, her helmet's on. Can't see a damn thing past the flat black of her visor. She didn't say anything but glower at me, like she always did ever since I first opened my mouth when she came on board. I turned to leave, but stopped short, noticing something in the mirror. Moving closer, I examine myself for the difference.

Let's see…scar across one eye? Check. Blue dyed hair? Check. Styled to one side properly? Check. Scraggly beard? _No go, got that shaved off not ten minutes ago_, my inner voice reported. Inner voice? I'm not crazy, am I….? I continued to examine myself. My under suit is one of a new breed. It identifies the user primarily by two colors, rather than by a number, although my number was on the back, good 'ol 540. My two colors? Sure I'll tell you; white with light yellow. Makes me feel like a knight of the crusades. Besides that, my crest is a white sword sheathed in red and orange flame. Painted that to my armor myself, thank-you-very-much. Very proud of it. That was stitched onto my full body leotard (no other way to really describe it) on the shoulders. That, I didn't do by hand; as stupid as I am, I am not THAT stupid.

I didn't find anything out of the ordinary, so I continued walking to my bunk, where my foot locker was. Time to reads me some books. I grabbed my reader from my make shift night stand and flopped down, about to indulge in a little historical science fiction reading when an idea struck me. _The armor_.

Armor. Spartan MJONLIR Mk. V[B] Powered Assault Armor, curtsey ONI Inc. I kept the components in my rather large footlocker, not having space for much else. My weapons and ammo spent their down time out of the box, but nearby; usually on the top half of whatever bunk I commandeered from Marines or ODSTs. _Poor bastards._

So I've now decided to polish my armor, or at least check it. Since we're in Reach's orbit now, we should be leaving any time now. I started with the boots. Semi-standard Spartan-III boots, armored, magnetic clamping, vacuum rated, and modded for the sheath of my secondary knife. I don't remember where I found it, only that I did find it. The blade has ornately carved Japanese symbols, and slightly curved back. I found some Tac-cord and made myself a nice cover for the skeleton handle, so if I needed it to be used by someone other than a Spartan, I could let them use it. _Alright, the boots look good. Let's move onto the leg armor. _

My leg armor. The only difference between mine and the standard armor is the color. My thighs are white, and my calves are golden. So are my knee guards, the new fangled FJ/PARA ones. I like them, cause I had the grenadier ones before, and those were HEAVY. These guys? Not so much. _Clean of contamination, move on to next ones_.

I hefted my chest piece and laid it on my bunk. When it was powered, the armor was nothing but a second skin. When it wasn't powered, it was a bitch to lug. The pouches I had attached to the front of the armor allowed me to take whatever I needed into combat, for as long as I was needed in combat. _If you're going to be out there for a long time, might as well take everything_. I made sure that the magazines were able to come out of the pouches at almost any angle, then removed my combat knife from its sheath on my left shoulder.

About 12 inches long, my combat knife is the size of a short sword. Note to the wise, never EVER fight an Elite who is armed with an energy sword with your combat sword. You WILL lose either your sword, your life or both. I take out my whetstone and begin to sharpen it. I've seen some Spartan-III's use their forearm bracers as whetstones, but I don't want to mess up my paint job too much.

But back to the armor, now that I've sharpened the knife. I re-sheath the knife and take out my ODST pauldrons. _I remembered them. I remembered them all. I remember the brave men and woman of Alto Squad. Five men, one woman._

This was back when I was with Team 4 still; so we got dropped in to this hell-broken city to give the ODSTs a chance to fall back while we took one last stab at breaching a CCS-class cruiser standing by, waiting to glass the planet. This ODST squad had to have been on something, cause after the squad I sent to relieve them relieved them, they hopped on the Pelican and demanded to go with us to kill the cruiser. Long story short, they went with us, and we got inside with their help. Couldn't have done it otherwise.

So we're in this cruiser, and it's main plasma weapon is charging, and the crew has no idea we're here, and we're running around trying to find the plasma reservoir. So eventually we find it, and I look at my guys and I'm like "You got the charges?" and my 2nd looks at me and says "What charges?"

These ODSTs look at one another and then at us, and one of them pulls out some packs of C12 and tosses them to my 2nd. She takes the packs and sets them up all over these storage tanks, and then we all run out to where we parked the Pelican. Then these Elites show up out of fucking nowhere and attack us. We beat them back, and made it into the Pelican. My mechanic started the engines and we were about to take off when six hunters thumped into the hanger. The ODST sergeant lept up and off the Pelican, drawing their fire, the rest of the squad followed suit, without hesitation or fear. They never said a word to us as we flew off, or even acknowledged our attempts to recall them. They stood fast, calling out to one another in the fluid ease they developed. So we flew on.

Once we were out of range, I detonated the C12 myself, and I did it with a heavy heart. We need more live heroes than dead ones in this war. The flight back to the evac site was silent. Once the Team had arrived in something resembling a supply center, I got a pair of ODST pauldrons to honor them.

I've finished inspecting and doing some minor polishing of the plaque with the names of the men and woman who died that day. _SSgt Citlali Ujarak, Sgt. Guido Gunterman, Cpl. Andriss Tviadar, Cpl. Herodion Thaddius, PFC. Sora Chikako._ _They will be remembered. _

Now time to move a little further down the arm. On one forearm I've got my Tacpad, and on the other, a GPS system. Handy combo. My arm armor is white, and the forearms are golden. Other than that, it's standard. Well, one thing I forgot to mention is that the ODST pads are white as well. They look really good all polished up an everything, you know? But now it's time for the icing on the cake.

The helmet. Operator variant, Command Networking Module with hardened uplink, plus rangefinders in every visible spectrum and up-to-date translation software. White. The whole damn thing is white. Wanted to get some gold on it, but Command nixed that idea. _Mofos._ Then the intercom rang.

"Spartans E540, S117 and B312 are hereby requested upon the bridge."

"Up yours Filiss" I muttered, addressing the ship's onboard AI unit while I was grabbing armor pieces. Don't get me wrong, I'm not angry. I'm just being me.

I started clamping on my armor as I ran down the corridors to the bridge. After a minute or so of this trickery, there was only one thing missing, my magazines and the adaptable components of the _Kadieon_ allowed a grav table to hold them as I clamped 'em on. B312 ran ahead of me, never looking back, silent as ever. I heard clumping behind me and I jumped onto the grav with a stifled yelp of surprise. _The Master Chief!_ I tried not to gawk in awe as he ran past, all four hundred kilos moving at a steady pace in the MJOLNIR Mk. VI armor.

As he passed, I jumped down, rolled and came up running. Now it was time to get my magazine pouches in order. I adjusted the pouches a smidge, then filled them with goodies. "Everything but the kitchen sink," as the saying goes. I believe my father used it once, when I was a little kid, to describe how he carried things. Everything but the kitchen sink. Be prepared for anything that might come your way.

"Damn straight daddyo," I muttered, then took off at full tilt for the bridge. I managed to come only thirty seconds behind the Chief and five behind B312 this time. Not bad, but could be better. I stood in line and saluted Captain Church. Tall for an unaugmented human, standing my height, about 6' 5", every inch an infantry officer transferred to ship duty for some unknown reason. Rumor was he still polished his ODST armor and cleaned his weapons daily, even slept in them, or ate ratpacks for the sheer pleasure of it.

"Sierra 117, you are ordered downside immediately by higher-higher. Something about getting a friend to keep you company on your ONI mission or some BS like that. Get your ass of my bridge and kill me some purple blooded fuckers!" he growled. The Chief saluted and clomped off, faster this time, down the hall to either the Pelican bay or to the ODST pod bay. I know which one I'd take. The Preacher turned to B312 after the Chief was around the corner, "312, you're going to be my opposite, you lucky SOB. Get down to the vehicle bay and report to the QM. You're wanted downside as FNG for the Army's renowned Noble Team. Get your goulash out of here." She didn't need any urging, that's for sure.

"You. 540." He paused, thought for a moment, paced the deck, then turned to me, "I don't know how to put this, so I won't sugar coat it. We've been raped by the Covenant on so many planets, lost so many fuc-lipping ships, it's not funny. We need good men to fight the Covenant, and you know that. What do you remember of your father?" he asked suddenly. _This had to go somewhere_.

"Not much sir. He was Army Spec Ops to the bone. Ran hard, ran fast, ran silent," I replied, reciting the motto he lived by.

"Well, do you remember the UNSC telling you your parents were killed?" he replied. _Fuck, not this._

I gulped. "Ye-yessir, I do." I was seven years old. I ran and hid for three days. The tears stopped coming after the first day. The second was spent drifting in and out of depression and exhaustion forced unconsciousness, and the third was where everything wound down. Something snapped that day. Not sure what, but it snapped good. Then they came for me. Naval agents came, took me away, and molded me into this armored avenging angel.

"Your father didn't really die." There was not BS in his voice, just flat fact.

"Permission to speak freely, sir", I requested.

"Granted", he replied immediately.

"Why did my Father "die" then? Why not just let him live and take care of me, be there for me like a real father would?" I asked harshly.

"Because he's in another dimension." _What?_

"I don't need to have Spartan emotion sensors to tell you're confused. Let me lay it out like this. Many years ago, the excavators of CASTLE base discovered a gateway, but they couldn't get it to work. For years they labored under secret, disguised as workers for Dr. Halsey, they worked on the gateway, until more recently, the gateway just activated all by itself. No one had an explanation, but it caused such a rucus, that Halsey noticed. She sent in a Spartan with a Pelican full of ammo, ODSTs and rations. Then the gate shutdown after they entered. Nothing we did was able to get it back open. But a few weeks ago, the gate opened up again, and a message was picked out of the static coming off the portal the gateway creates. It was from your father, saying he's in deep trouble, and he needs immediate extraction. So, logically, the one to go in after him would be one of our most accomplished Spartans to date, even if that Spartan is his son."

"One of, sir?" I asked.

"The two others already claim that title were here on this bridge a few moments ago," he said.

"Right. So. Back to me and the mission. Why exactly am I being diverted to rescue my father?" I asked.

"Son, he's a Spartan. You're a 2.5. Spartan-II's were never meant to have children, so their sexual drives were suppressed, and nothing else was done," He paused, "Obviously, your father's drive was not suppressed as Every so often, he would disappear for a few days, or even a week at a time. After it became regular, and he came back with impressive kills, no one really cared. He started to plan his own operations, and became renowned for the degree of success he achieved time and time again. Almost as legendary as the Chief," the Captain added as an afterthought, "Your father in actuality, met your mother when her home town was attacked, saved her, fell in love in the process, and had you. He committed a UNSC felony on numerous occasions to see you. Brave man. Good man" he said then recovered and changed tracks, "Once you have secured your designated Team, then make your way to SWORD base, where you will begin your assignment. Now get YOUR goulash of my bridge. Can't stand the sight of looking at you. All questions can be answered by reading your info packet delivered to your helmet's database. Fillis?"

"Yes sir. I have uploaded the information packet you requested into Spartan-054," the AI reported. _Time to go_.

"Yessir!" I almost shouted, then ran out the door, making a packing list when I reached my room. I grabbed everything. I never traveled with something I didn't need, unless it was relatively light.

After taking the lift to the ODST bay, I commandeered a pod for the drop. The PA chimed in my helmet. _God, now what…_

"Erik, your ODST drop pod will have to be much closer in order for me to fire it to Reach. Otherwise you would suffocate inside before you got planetside," Filiss said.

"Filiss, I am taking this pod. Move the ship closer, or I'll just hold my breath," I said matter-of-factly.

"Firing pod number 3429 in seventy-five seconds. Hold on to something sturdy, I am taking the fast route."

I sat there, in the "comfort" of the pod for what seemed to be about a half hour while Fillis got the _Kadieon_ into position, realizing why these things were designed so uncomfortably. Get the ODST's good and mean for the covies. When Filiss did fire my pod, it was slow at first, and I thought "This is not what I exPEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD!" Yeah, mid-sentence I was SHOT out of the ship. The ride down was enjoyable to say the least.

The air around my pod grew hotter as I entered the atmosphere, and my helmet com crackled. "Spartan E540, this is Reach Air Control. What the hell are you doing?"

"Reach Air Control, this is Spartan E540, I am doing what the hell I want to. I am needed on the surface ASAP. Found the fastest way down. Don't judge me."

"We're judging you to be in-STATIC-"I found out how to jam UNSC comms back in basic when we were doing a regimen on fighting against rebels, should we encounter them in our travels.

Then the pod starts to shake, and to counter it, what do I, dear reader, do? I turn on my music, that's what I do. I found some old files in the computer's database. REALLY old. Like from the twentieth or twenty-first centuries old. It's good, but old. Doesn't compare in complexity to today's music, but what the hell. My selection? "The Longest Day" of course. It's the only thing appropriate for this. I start it just in time for the music to get loud as the pod crashed into the trees bordering the legendary SPARTAN-II training grounds near CASTLE Base.

Two things clued me into this being SPARTAN-II territory. Item 1- the shocked group of Spartans that was not fifty meters from my pod when it impacted. Item 2- When the door on my pod kicked, I realized that they were at least a foot taller and at least a hundred kilos heavier than I am. _FUCK. Put the weapons down. Better yet, clip them to the interior of your pod._ I did then stepped out of the pod and removed my helmet. The Spartans had arrayed themselves in a horseshoe formation, allowing for maximum fire concentration on a target, weapons leveled unwaveringly at my head. _Good thing I removed my helmet, right?_

"Howdy. Anyone of you gents know where I can find Team 4?" I asked cheerily. The Spartans looked at one another then as one, removed their helmets. Oops. Chicks. If B312 was any indication of the girls here on Reach, then I'm about to get beaten up by girls…

"We wish we knew where they were. This skirmish exercise is with them. Lousy fuckers", the platinum blonde on the right said. The others nodded.

"Ok, so let me go, and I'll find them?" I asked hopefully.

"Not on your life. You're a cheapo. You don't get treated like one of us," the red head slightly to my right scoffed.

"Fine, but I'm not a che-" BAMBAMBAMBAMBOOOOOOOMBAMRATATATATATATATATATATATAT! I dove for cover, scrambling to get my helmet back on, and under cover. The others racked the chambers of their weapons and spat return fire at the attackers in record time. I swear the devil himself was on their heels at the way they moved. I got onto the attacking team's channel.

"Hey, you guys Team 4?" I asked.

"Little! Busy! At the! MOMENT!" cried one of the Spartans in Team 4.

I switched to the chick team. "Hey, what ammo are you guys shooting?" I asked.

"Hard paint", someone replied. Hard paint freezes your armor and hurts like a bitch. Sounds and feels real when it's going through your weapon. Bitch to get out, though. I rummaged around in my pod for any paint. _Aww, someone put me down with the right stuff for once. I'm deeply touched._ I swapped my real ammo for paint, and joined in. The chicks weren't too happy. Neither was Team 4.

I got behind a tree and started shooting in short bursts at a Spartan-II. Damn, but the II's move fast. I clipped one in the shoulder as she sprinted from cover. She tumbled into the ground at the loss of her left arm as a counterbalance, and was promptly put down by a four round burst to the chest. Wasn't so bad, but I my armor locked down, and I fell down.

The last thing I saw was a vaguely familiar pink and cyan armored Spartan-III shooting me in the head with paint. _Jesus, getting shot hurts! _Then the pain let unconsciousness take over.

When I woke up, I woke up in the same field, right where I had fallen. I also hurt. But did I hurt in the head? Yes and no. Yes that it was A head, no, it wasn't the one on my shoulders.

And it was raining, and nighttime. _Of course it's raining. Why wouldn't it be?_ I asked myself as I got up and looked around. Nada. Nothing. I looked around for my rifle, but didn't find it. Instead, all I had was my pistol still clamped to my thigh. Disappointing. I drew it anyways and chambered a round with a very satisfying sound as the bolt hit the end of the receiver. The SOCOM variant of the M6C is a gorgeous thing. Silent as a knife, but twice as deadly. I check into my pod for anything and found it stripped bare of weapons and ammo, but not rations. I grab five and set off for what is supposed to be the location of Team 4's operational headquarters.

The walk there was pleasant. I got to sight see the famous CASTLE base where Dr. Halsey was conducting her experiments on whatever she thought was important. I hope she came out with some new equipment for the V[B]. I like getting new equipment.

When I arrived at Team 4 OpHQ, there were Falcons and Warthogs spread all over the base, seemingly in disarray. _No, wait that is actual disarray._ I walked in the empty gate, and a lone rifle poked the barrel out from behind a pile of Warthogs.

"You will stop where you are, face south, remove your helmet and state your name, rank and business here," the sentry ordered. I could just barely make out some yellow and purple behind the Oracle scope on the rifle he held.

"Mondo, get your ass out from behind there, it's me, Erik," I said, glad to hear from a familiar face.

"Well, I would, but you're not exactly welcome around here, in case you didn't realize this. She took a video of what you did and played it for us with orders to do the same if we encountered you. Hell, I'm going to the brig for telling you this much," he babbled nervously while racking the bolt on his sniper rifle. Then he fired.

I hit the deck and rolled behind a overturned warthog while Mondo, the ever present comedian, pumped a magazine into my cover, sending lethal bullets through the hull of the hog. _Definitely should have said goodbye._

"Erik-G054," a distinctly feminine voice purred out of my headset, "I had a feeling you'd be coming back. But sooner than later. If you're here for those orders, no. I won't let you take the Team out. Nothing is going to change my mind. Should have stayed dead. Been better for all of us." With that, she cut the transmission. She was supposed to be my best friend…

Mondo had reloaded and started to pump another magazine into the warthog by this time. I had hacked into the controls of a Falcon and began the spin up routine. _Get over the broad already. It's probably that time of the month again. Besides, it's not the first time you've gone in without support. And I can tell you it's not going to be the last._ God, I hate it when I'm right. I did have orders that said I was to link up with Team 4, so I might as well take someone. _Let's see, who would be willing to skip out on her with me….?_ I mentally ran down the roster of likely candidates as I walked through the start up sequence for a relatively isolated Falcon. The twin rotor gunship was perfect for light armed recon and Spec Ops infil/exfil. Mounted machinegun or grenade launchers on the side with starship class chin mounted chain gun made this a nice close air support asset. _Especially if it were in the hands of a few people, namely the mechanic, Fritz. Or I could take Wilson. But she's kinda a bitch. Scratch that last. She is._ I opened a private channel to Fritz as I hopped into the cockpit.

"Hey you little shit. Remember me?" I began. I heard laughter on the other end.

"Hey bitch-face, I didn't expect to see your maggot-ridden ass here so soon," he replied.

"Well, I gotta favor to call in," I said, bringing the seriousness back into my voice.

"What'cha need?" he asked.

"Well, I got orders to take some of Team 4 out on a Tier 1 Op, and she's not letting you guys out, and I'm not going back empty handed. Make sense?" I said.

"Ok, so you want me to go AWOL?" he said, the "you've-got-to-be-completely-shitting-me" evident in his tone.

"In a nutshell. You have five minutes to get gone before I take off in this Falcon. If you can grab someone else, that's perfect. If not, don't worry about it, just get here." I told him with finality.

"Right. Let me grab my armor and equipment. How much support will we have?"

"I'm not sure myself. From the looks of it, we should have what we need where and when we need it."

"Alright, I'm on my way out in armor. She's going to have the rest of the Team mobile a minute after we take off remember."

"Yeah, yeah, you just get here and get on the launcher. Let me worry about our arses for once, will ya?" I said, and cut the com.

His Mk. V armored self appeared three minutes later, his SMG on a thigh, and the DMR on the other. As soon as he got in on the left side turret, I punched the RPMs to maximum. The Falcon shot into the air after a brief pause, and once we hit a km in altitude, I set for hover, and threw the main engines from 1/2 into maximum drive. The G's I was pulling sank the armor and subsequently myself into the pilot's chair a little far, cause I felt the padding pop out of its seams.

True to Fritz's word, she had the Team mobile a minute after we went to max drive. As the unfriendly Falcons grew closer, Fritz shot a few EMP grenades at the following gunships. He scored a few hits, which sent a few of them into the forest below, but they recovered and caught up with us. I realized this was only going to end one way if we kept this up: Badly.

I cut the drive on the engines and unlocked the altitude. Now class, what happens when a helicopter looses power to the rotors? That's right; it drops like a motherfucking brick.

I cut the engines and dropped to treetop level, then relocked it and slammed the main drives back to maximum. The Falcons pursuing us were now above and in front of us, more than likely cursing madly at this maneuver. The other gunships were piloted by no fools, so they kept formation and dropped around us; one to the 12, one to 5, and one to the 7. (As in old 20th Century style pilot speak)

"You have thirty seconds to comply. Land in marked LZ and prepare to be boarded. Any attempt to escape will be met with force. After that, jail time mofo," came her voice. _Bitch_.

"Alright, turning into designated LZ ETA is five minutes," I relented. Banking the Falcon into a turn, I redlined the RPM on the rotors and shot into the air, and beelined it for Sword base. We almost made it.

One Falcon's chain gun got off a burst into the right side rotor and door gun. The gun we jettisoned, and the rotor started spewing black smoke. I hit the accelerator and flew at treetop level so we didn't die too much on impact.

The rest of the flight to the base wasn't anything too terribly special. I got caught up with Fritz, and we swapped stories of our Teams. I had gotten left behind on her orders the last time I was with Team 4, or rather, leading it. Left for dead, I made my way into Covenant lines where I found a strange creature that modified my armor to have stronger than normal shields, listen to Covenant transmissions and talk to them with translation software and to perform minor miracles with medical capabilities to keep me on my feet. Fritz had been one of the ones to try and look for me, but before they got there, a Seraph bombed the house I was in, and they gave up hope.

After flying for a few more minutes, the rotor chugged, splugged and died. We immediately went into a spin, and crashed.

When I awoke, Fritz was shaking me awake, franticly telling me that the others were on the way. I got up, grabbed my helmet, which had come off during the crash and limped over to the treeline where Fritz detonated the Falcon, making it appear as though we died on impact. The others of Team 4 circled for a few minutes, then one landed and a pink and blue armored figure stepped out of the cargo bay. It walked over to the wreckage, and toed a few pieces over, half heartedly looking for something, or just making a show of looking for something and already knowing the answer. It raised its head to the Falcons circling above, and they flew off. Then it boarded the Falcon it came in and also flew off.

I looked at Fritz, he looked at me. I patched myself up with a med kit that Fritz produced, and started the walk to the front gate of Sword Base.

We were met at the gate by a squad of ODSTs, ONI's favorite substitute for Spartans. They scanned us, then led us to an old woman wearing a white lab coat standing in a room filled with everything a soldier of the UNSC could possibly need for an operation in the field. Weapons of every caliber and type lined one wall, attachments took up a majority of the one perpendicular to it, and they EVEN HAD A MJOLNIR WALL!

I was excited to get to try out some new equipment, or at least load up a pelican hanging on the ceiling up with everything I could possibly ever want, then attach a warthog to it, and fly to victory. But, I had to pay attention to this woman first, before I got to play with my toys. She had brownish-red hair, and a stern complexion about her. The ODSTs even looked uncomfortable. _This woman's bad news._

"Spartan-G054, G-012," she began, "I am surprised to find only you here. Is the rest of Team 4 on their way?"

"No ma'am. They declined to go when I asked for volunteers," I replied.

Fritz opened a private channel to me. "You asked for volunteers?" _Dumbass._

"Spartan, remove your helmet. I want to see who I'm sending into this hell," she ordered. The ODSTs gripped their weapons a little tighter in anticipation of a fight.

"Ma'am," we replied in unison and removed our helmets. My enhanced eyesight picked up her pupils dilating while her face remained blank. _She's in a minor degree of astonishment._

"The III's were recruited from orphans?" she asked, confirming my suspicions.

"Aye, we were," Fritz replied for me, the anger of remembrance evident in his voice.

"I see." Her eyes fixed me in a look whose intentions I couldn't place. _Not good_.

"Ma'am, our mission?" I asked, trying to get her back on track so we could leave.

"Ah, yes. Your mission. G012, have you been briefed?"

"No ma'am."

"G054, come with me. G012, read this and join us when you're ready."

"Aye."

"G054?" I followed her to one of the racks of weapons as she ran down the assets we had access to here in this research bunker. Apparently a UNSC _Phoenix_-class Assault Ship had been diverted to give us support on this mission, the UNSC _Thunder of Guns_. She had complete compliments of ODSTs and Marines aboard, so we'd never be alone. _Lovely._

As she told me this, I went about picking out my weaponry. I picked up a DMR and attached a silencer to it. Hefting it, I put it through its paces as Lab Coat (my new name for the woman running the Op) described how my Father went in with only a Pelican load months ago, and some of the footage he sent back. Futuristic ships, lots and lots of saucers, nacelles and weird looking aliens with their bird ships. _What the fuck?_

Now, all this had taken about a minute or two, just enough time to allow Fritz to read the orders and background and make lots of unhappy noises I realized to be insults.

"Yo Fritz, shut the hell up would ya? I'm trying to learn how to keep ourselves alive over here" I shouted at him over the noise of his elaborate curses.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A FAMILY!? HUNH?!" he shouted at me, rage boiling in his face. To say he's sensitive about the loss of his family would be like saying it's mildly uncomfortable to have your pubic hair removed with dull salad tongs.

"Fritz, come off it. I didn't realize he was even alive until a few hours ago. Let it go," I replied. He just stood there, seeping in anger, until he finally calmed down to a reasonable level. When he did, he looked wearily at me, like I was a dead dog on his porch, and for all I knew, to him I now was. _If he falters like this beforehand, how's he going to react once we pull my "dad" outta wherever he is? Can I trust him to keep my back?_

"I'm better, I'm better," Fritz said sighing and shooing away technicians looking to prod him with sleepy drugs.

"You sure? Cause I need to know if you're green light to go on this mission. If you are, you've only got me to talk to. The Marines and ODSTs don't like Spartans," I said bluntly.

"Yeah, I know that," he looked over his shoulder at the nervous ODSTs and sighed, "Yeah, I'll be green lighted for this mission."

"Good," I put my hand on his shoulder and shook it gently, "I need your backup on this. We're going in alone, and without outside support besides the _Thunder_. We're going into a tear in the fabric of the universe for God's sake." I let my face show a little worry to emphasize my point.

"Yeah, I'm good to go. Let's get a move on. I don't want to wait too much longer. If your Dad's an operator like us, then we need all of them we can get," he said with finality.

I turned to Lab Coat and gestured to lead us on. She glared at my theatrics and went about explaining our mission's specifics. We had the _Thunder_ because we'd more than likely need to look intimidating, and to have immediate support no matter what, and pelicans and the like were in high demand already. This one had extensive machine and fabrication shops with a few prototype weapons on board. We'd see those when they were needed.

By this time, Fritz had assembled his gear, and I was ready with my own. I triple checked my gear and then Fritz and I triple checked one another's. _I remember checking his gear in BCS. Whole helluva lot's changed since then._

"You're good Fritz," I said when I was done. Fritz didn't reply, he gave a strap on my left most magazine pouch a hard tug, and it didn't break or cinch tighter. "You're good too" he replied.

I turned to Lab Coat and once again gestured for her to lead the way. She led and we followed, armored boots clanging on the metallic floor with weighted authority. The Marines and ODST guards eyed us with suspicion as we passed, but I didn't pay them any mind. _Let them think what they will about us. If need be we can always whoop their asses a second time. No biggie._

In time, after a nice fifteen minute stroll about the complex, Fritz and I found ourselves in an overseer's box, overseeing a rather strange sight: _A UNSC _Phoenix_-Class Assault Ship! In the middle of a planet for that matter!_

"Uh, ma'am, is that supposed to be there?" Fritz asked. _Lab Coat did say something about an Assault Ship above, so this should come as no surprise, right?_

"Yes it is Warrant Officer. The _Thunder of Guns _was made specifically for this kind of expedition. I do believe you can now see the efforts we are going to, to retrieve Spartan-045," she replied frankly.

"Yes, that's all good now, so when do we leave for never-never land?" I asked.

"As soon as you board her," Lab Coat replied.

"Permission to leave this space to kick untold amounts of ass ma'am?" I asked. Fritz put on his best pleading face.

"Granted. Kick 'em a few for myself while you're in there," she replied as we jogged down to the boarding tube. "Son". It was barely above a quiet whisper. I don't know if Fritz caught it, but he didn't make any noticeable reaction. Even for a Spartan. The moment we were in the ship, the tube disengaged, and the intercom sounded above the klaxons.

"All hands, this is the Captain speaking. We are prepping for trans-galactic jump. To the couches people!"

With that, we were given 45 seconds to find cover and then we locked our armor in position and pumped the hydrostatic gel up to maximum pressure.

"Fritz, if we die, I want you to know something buddy…" I began.

"Erik, I swear to God, if you come out of the closet on me-"

"I fucking hate you bitch-face," I finished with a grin on my face. He laughed.

"Yeah, and I hope you get killed too ass-face."

Then our bodies and minds and souls were beaten like a thousand drums as we entered the portal, and got shot out of it almost as soon as we entered.

"Attention Unknown Vessel, this is the USS _Khalia_. Do not attempt to power up shields, or you will be destroyed."


	6. New Beginnings-2

Admiral Erik Konrad, Commanding Officer, Khalian Fleet, ISS _Khalia VII B_

Planet designation Eta Helix 453-9B, Khzan Cluster. Zulu Date, May 20, 2411.

Plasma bolts fly over my head as I duck to avoid them, and the thirty bolts behind them.

"Kilo! Can you get bead on those damn Romulans?" I shouted over the din of the plasma repeater chewing at my team's position behind some rocks not five meters to my right.

"Give me a sec" she replied. I looked over my shoulder to her sniping position. With my enhanced Bajorian vision, I could see the glint of the chrome plating on her Anti-proton sniping rifle. A second later, a black semi-void beam with red trickles shot the Romulan Commander operating the repeater. Her shields flared, and then died, along with her. The rocky outcropping Kilo was hiding in wouldn't be a secret much longer.

"Com'on you bastards! Do you wanna live forever!?" I shouted in a mock-heroic voice as I leapt from cover and shot burst after burst into the Romulan line surrounding the ghost town. _What am I doing here?_

Three days ago I was on the bridge doing me things and then Starfleet Command gets on the horn and says that they've found some Borg tech that the Romulans were hiding. This automatically tripped my alarms, so I alerted the Omega Task Force, let them know I was taking the fleet and would be out on mission for a few days. We've already blasted our way through some Mogai warbirds out-atmosphere, and now I'm taking this ghost town by storm with my away team. Not something we're not afraid of doing ourselves. Keeps us in shape.

The Jem'Hadar carbine in my hands grew warm from the energy I was putting out. I holstered it and dove for cover behind some crates. The plasma rounds had spattered against my Jem'Hadar shields and armor, which I gave time to recharge before going back into the melee. Am I physically wearing the armor? Of course I am. Does it show? No. I've got it interwoven into my wardrobe, obviously. It's the new fad among us Admirals. Armored fashion. Loves it, I do.

"GET DOWN!" she cried as she threw a photon grenade followed by a plasma one. Egad I hate plasma. Gets everywhere and it BURNS. Nola and Vase opened up with their mini-guns from their positions on the left flank. The Romulan fire shifted towards my two science officers, but Kilo's sniper rifle sizzled a few more times, and a few more Romulans died a messy death.

"Jimmy! Ghost! Nik! I'm not paying you by the hour! Get your asses over here!" I shouted in to the com unit on my lapel.

"We've got some Romulans who're trying to get onto your flanks. We're about to call in some strikes from the Seven Bravo." The Seven Bravo. He means the ISS _Khalia VII_, my flagship. It's an Assault Cruiser captured from another universe, and I was allowed to keep it, even its ISS designation. Good for recon Command said.

"Good. Call it in, cause we're moving forward. Kilo, you copy that?" I asked.

"Roger. I'm moving from cover now, keep 'em offa me," she replied.

"Alright Lads!" I shouted on the all hands channel, "You heard the lady. SUPPRESSING FIRE!" Then we began to shoot at everything and nothing at the same time. The Romulans dove for cover and stayed down, but the few that did poke their heads up to got a few shots to their head, and didn't get a shot off. Mostly.

"Agh! FUCK! Erik, I'm hit. Dammit, this shit burns!" Kilo cried over the com.

"Nola get her patched up. Cherry, give her cover. I've got this taken care of. Vase, work your way over to me. Jimmy, how many times do I have to tell you to get your men over here?" I growled.

They acknowledged, and I found some cover behind a couple of supply crates to wait for them.

"Erik! I've reached Kilo. She's got some nasty burns on her stomach. She's not fit to fight until we get her back to the Seven Bravo."

"Roger that. Seven Bravo, Konrad. Beam up Kilo and Nola and prep medical. We've got wounded. Cherry, report back here. Konrad out," I said into my command badge. I checked the charge on my carbine and slid another battery into the slot. These things last a long time. Good thing I make sure to face Jem'Hadar every so often, otherwise this thing would be a fancy bludgeon. At the mention of a melee weapon, my right hand drifted to the sword I had strung across my back. Plasma bolts returned me to the present and announced the arrival of my survivors.

"Erik! There's a patrol about forty meters ahead of you. Can you give us a little covering fire?" Cherry called.

"Sure thing," I replied. I summoned a few items from the holds of the Seven Bravo, namely a mortar and two seeker drones. They promptly shot the Romulans until their shields failed, then I finished them off with my carbine. One got off a little easier. He didn't die immediately, so he lay there bleeding, probably glad to be alive. I slung the carbine down on its sling, and drew my sword. I knelt down next to the dying Romulan and realized it was a she. A female Science Commander of the Romulan Tal Shiar forces. I hauled her to her feet and handed her the sword. She clutched at her side where I hit her with my carbine with one hand and had the sword in the other. Then she began to bring the sword up to bear and BEDOW! One of my engineering officers shot her with the stun function of the Anti-proton pistol. I turned to face a Klingon, naturally taller than myself, and dressed in a white/light yellow Sierra 5 Starfleet uniform.

"Hello Jimmy. Glad you could make it bro," I said with a smile. He returned it.

"Glad TO make it. You should stop toying with them. Nik and Cherry were giving you weird looks back there," he replied as I grabbed my sword and sheathed it.

"Yeah, well it's fun. It's what I do," I replied offhand. Then my attention turned back to the mission. "Team, we've still got a facility to clear and Borg tech to find. Have the Khalia beam down some security personal so we can get this place locked down. Ghost, you handle topside operations. I'll take Cherry, Nik and Vase down into the base to find this tech. Copy?"

"Copy," came the quiet reply from my security officer. He doesn't talk much, not since he's come aboard has he spoken for any great length of time. He hefted his Phaser rifle and walked over to the landing site of the reinforcements while Vase jogged over, her mini-gun gone, replaced by her Romulan Split-Beam plasma rifle.

"Com'on we've got to get this done before the rest of the Romulan Empire shows up and kicks our ass," I said walking over to the door of the building that would take us down into the bowels of the base. I studied the door for a minute before making up my mind.

"Stand back. We're breaching and clearing," I said as I pulled out a quantum explosive, placed it on the door and readied the detonator. "Ready?"

"We're ready. On your go," Cherry replied for the rest of the team.

"3….2…1…BAM…..GOGOGO!" I shouted while drawing the carbine up to my shoulder. I followed Cherry and Nik inside, and cleared the small barracks. Nothing. I looted a few crates for some minor supplies to sell back at ESD (Earth Space Dock) when this mission was over with. The Fleet's holds were getting pretty full of loot. That and maybe get some resupply on entertainment stuff, maybe some new programs for the holodeck. Couldn't hurt. Never truly could, you know.

I walked over to the ladder heading in to the planet's surface and nodded to Vase. She pulled out her tricorder and took a reading of the ladder. She shook her head. I pointed my index finger at Nik, then my index and middle at myself; then my index, middle and ring at Vase. Cherry would take the rear this time. They nodded and Nik checked his Polaron pulsewave. Satisfied, he gave me the thumbs up and I returned. With that, he dropped down the ladder, and I followed.

When we hit bottom, I had Vase take another reading while the rest of us kept a secure-ish perimeter.

"Sir, I've got an anomalous reading on a course off on a 330 degree course. This tunnel leads that way further down," she reported.

"Good. We'll continue down and find that Borg tech," I ordered. So we did. The tunnel held nothing of interest other than the anomalous reading that Vase picked up earlier. It was nothing more than a few mineral samples, but hey, the Geek dept. of the Seven Bravo needs the basics to create things. Self sufficiency we call it, or we just make to sell it to get the credits to buy other things.

Continuing on, the tunnel turned from rock to finely machined Romulan steel. The faint green glow affirmed the origin of the metal, as Romulans LOVE the color green.

The complex opened into a proper military bunker, with an armory and other assorted goodies. I gave the coordinates to the Seven Bravo and the Logistics officer started coordinating the capture of the cache. We carried on, still not a Romulan in sight. Upon entering the final room, I realized why.

The cavernous walls held a Borg Battle Octahedron over a massive energy pit. The platform that extended from the corridor was wide enough to connect to some the walls of the room, and then extend to within 50 meters of the Borg ship. The ends of the platforms had assimilated Romulans of varying degree of assimilation in them. Poor buggers. Never did like them, but this is something no one should fall for.

"Fan out, find the power source to these units and shut 'em off. Don't want to attract the attention of that Bastard," I whispered.

They thumped me on the back in acknowledgement and moved out. I took to the front to a console that looked-semi important. The diagnostic panel showed readouts of the ship with the power and shielding to take down a flight of escorts easily. Cruisers on the other hand, being larger, better crewed, shielded and structured, can take one down with about only two or three capital class ships, but those ships would be tattered and take time to repair. I was on a lone scouting mission for Omega when I had to fight off one of these things while the two other fleet escorts burned. A beep on the panel brought me back into reality.

After scanning the panels for a few seconds, they began to pulsate different colors. Not good, definitely not good at all. He looked around to see his Team move away from blinking consoles as well. Ok, the shit storm has started.

The Borg ship began to turn on its axis and the assimilated Romulans disappeared in transporter beams. Then the ship itself disappeared with warp trails coming off it as it shot through the planet's crust. The complex began to crumble as the Borg Battle Octahedron tore through critical supports on its way to freedom, and the guns of my Fleet.

"Seven Bravo! Get us the hell outta here!" I cried into the com. We were surrounded instantly by blue transporter beams and shot to the transporter room of the ISS _Khalia VII-B_, where the on-duty Tac officer met me and my Team while we were divesting our gear. I kept mine on, cause I had a feeling I'd be needing it.

Striding onto the bridge, I sat down in my chair, and went to the tactical view. "Status" I ordered. A 3D map of the system opened on my screen, as well as representations of my fleet

"Borg Dreadnought disappearing at fast rate, will not be able to close in time. Romulan fleet inbound, one minute," Cherry replied, having remote access to her tactical console.

"Right. Deploy the Fleet about the system. Kilo Two and Seven Alpha, you're going to be our minelayers. Start seeding them 1,000 kilometers off the planet, full orbit, as fast as your layers can cycle. Kilo Five Bravo, continue to support groundside operations. The Seven Bravo will be on station to assist if necessary with Three as wing man. Kilo One, engage cloak and fly recon. Go dark little buddy. We'll recall you if necessary."

The captains winked their acknowledgement lights, and the ships dispersed as ordered. The Seven Alpha held the supply of tri-cobalt mines for the Fleet, so they began to appear around the planet, and Kilo Two had plasma mines, so the Romulans would have some nasty surprises in their faces.

A minute passed with held breaths, and slow ticking of the bridge clock. Then the Romulans appeared in formation, their emerald ships sparkling in the light the sun gave off. The first wave consisted of four squadrons of Birds of Prey. Simple enough. I dispatched Three and Five Alpha to deal with them, two squadrons apiece. The Heavy Cruiser pulled off a stellar mine laying maneuver. About 12 kilometers from the nearest Bird, the captain hit full impulse, and waited to deploy everything until he was right in the middle of things. Plasma arrays lashed out in angry blue-green beams at the Cruiser, but her shields were holding steady. The mines activated and slammed into one bird, blowing through the shields and taking out the majority of the left side, including the cockpit. Number one was out of the fight.

Number two got its shields drained by a withering barrage of Tetryon beams then got a spread of Quantum torpedoes up the nacelle for the trouble. The result: Another spectacularly green explosion of plasma as the warp core detonated with a ferocity that shattered the entire bird. The captain then shifted the aim towards the last Bird of Prey in the fight, and it didn't last more than five seconds against the Heavy Cruiser. The second Squadron met a fate quite similar, and in that time, their weapons and abilities never pierced the shielding. My little brother has learned quite well.

The captain of the Exploration Cruiser was having an easier time handling the Birds of Prey because he had mounted more weapons on the ship than the Heavy Cruiser. But, that was only perceived easiness; the custom fitted ship didn't have very much in the way of RCS modules, so turn rate was agonizingly slow. Angry retrofitted and upgraded phaser banks spat angry waves of destruction into the Birds as her captain ordered a rotating modulation on the phaser beam banks. Tricky move to pull off, but if working properly, then it will score hits directly on the hull, no need for much else but to wait for the ship to explode. USS _Khalia 5A_ was rewarded as such, and then in the next forty-five seconds, the rest of the Birds of Prey met their maker. However, the new shielding system wasn't perfect, so the hull was hit a few times by plasma torpedoes and overloaded the engine EPS subsystem conduits, leaving her dead in the water.

"Admiral! The _Lab_ says new vessels, Romulan, D'deridex-class, three minutes out!" cried my Com officer. Oh yeah, forgot to mention. We've got this nice newly liberated Mirror Universe Recon Science Vessel, the _Khalian Laboratory_, who is our, obviously, science vessel. Has the most advanced sensor suite in Starfleet. She can detect anything within 200,000 km with reasonably accuracy, and looks kick ass too.

"Have the _Lab_ to stay on station, with their shields up. We need to be aware of new waves. Tell the captain to take no chances, she's not even broken in yet. The rest of the fleet will return to stations. Damage report people," I said on the Fleet-wide channel. I looked at the display and it told me something that my coms officer told me a few seconds later. I needed confirmation that the Romulans hadn't found this transmission band yet.

"Sir, only damage was to the Kilo Five Alpha. Her engines are down and crew has sustained some casualties, only walking wounded this time. Her captain says he'll be underway by the time the Romulans get here."

"Very well. Have him double time it, I don't want to have to draw on my reinforcements unless I absolutely have to. I'm not leaving our landings unsupported. Have the minelayers resume laying the mines, then deal with the Warbirds when they get here. Kilo Five Bravo, how's landings going?" I asked into the com channel to her captain, Nolan Riddle.

"Erik! Landings are going great! Limited casualties and we've still got plenty of cargo space in the hold. Managed to find some standard Romulan plasma rifles, so we're going to make a few bucks when we get back to ESD. No further anomalous readings unfortunately. You picked em up good. ETA to finish is about five minutes. Once out we're going to warp to the _Lab_ and make for the next target while you finish up here. Can you spare another ship? I'd feel exposed without another ship at my back, you know? Five Bravo over and out."

"Roger that Five Bravo; Kilo Three, new marching orders. You are TAD under Five Bravo for escort and intercept duty to Objective Zwei. We'll join you when we're finished here with these clowns, Kilo Seven Bravo Out," I said into the headset com.

"Romulan warbirds are entering system…Now," called Cherri from the tactical station.

"Five Alpha, I need you mobile! Warbirds are closing and I don't need to be playing escort again!" I thundered as the Seven Bravo took off for the damaged ship's position, blasting everything in her path. Then the Seven Bravo lurched and a panel exploded from above and took out a security guard. Poor Red-shirt.

"Erik! Plasma torpedo amidships!" Nik reported from his console.

"Nola! Engage hazard emitters! And someone get Vase up here as well!" I shouted as I re-analyzed the command displays in front of me, "Kilo, you are weapons free. I say again, you are weapons free. Do what you need to do to get us out of here safely. Jimmy, you are under her direction until further notice."

The only response I got was Kilo shouting out directions to Jimmy so she could target and destroy warbirds in defense of the Five Alpha. "Kilo Elements, I need some back up! Five Alpha's getting hammered!" I said to the fleet com.

"Roger that, we're about finished up here with this Rommie. ETA is forty-five seconds," came Captain Tresch Caltacerra, the captain of our regular cruiser, Kilo Two; Hybrid class. _I do not choose to use standardized parts with my ships, they are each unique in their features; all classes available to me were used in their construction_.

"Seven Bravo, help is inbound, your 2 o'clock low, thirteen kilometers and closing at full impulse, rock 'em and sock 'em boys!" came the cowboy war whoop of Kilo Three's captain, Captain Jake Konrad, _also known as my little brother; a fact he doesn't like to be reminded of. His brashness oversets my cautious nature, and each of us saves the other on an almost regular basis. Kind of annoying, cause I let it go, and he doesn't. Guess I'll be chalking another one up to him later today._ Jake's helmsman swung the _Khalia III_ through the formation of warbirds, torpedoes slashing and hacking through the shields while her torpedoes blew apart sections of the hull in brilliant green and orange explosions. I watched in satisfaction as Jimmy wove the Seven Bravo somewhat gracefully through the pack complimenting Jake on the attack runs, and dumping warp plasma as soon as the ejectors could be reloaded. The plasma ate through the warbird's shields and attacked the hull directly, causing fluctuating power, and shorts and power failures. _Lovely thing to see a Romulan warbird explode like that_.

"Jimmy, take us back through the field; Kilo, give Three some covering fire!" I ordered and brought the ship around once more for another torpedo run on them. "What's the status of our weapons?" I asked.

"Beams are firing as fast as they can be cycled, maximum intensity on the power we're running through them. Torpedoes are reloaded and awaiting targeting data. We currently have 75% torpedoes remaining, and shields are down to 87%. Casualties from Medbay are light at 1%, and structural damage is being repaired. We are at 90% hull stability and climbing unless we take another high power torpedo," reported Cherry.

"Excellent. Keep up the fire Cherry. Jimmy, can you take on that D'deridex that's giving Five Alpha a hard time?," I asked, nonchalantly condemning hundreds of Romulans to a fiery death. _Does this weigh on my conciseness? No. They shot before asking us to leave. They have no manners._ The D'deridex exploded, and the 3D representation of it disappeared from the tactical display. I turned my attention to the other red symbols flying around my engaged ships. _We have them outnumbered now. Time to drive them back then run before something goes REALLY wrong._

"All engaged ships, this is Admiral Konrad. Weapons free, use any means to kill ships. No prisoners. I want to be home before the big guns show up. Kilo One, how are we looking?" I said.

"Sir, incoming coded transmission from Kilo One. She's on the system's outer orbit, running patrol under stealth like you ordered, and she's encountered something. The Seven Bravo will transport you to her when you're ready sir," Kilo reported.

"I can take over operations Erik. Go, I've got this," my Andorian 2nd said in a calming tone. I smiled at her.

"What would I do without you Number 1?" I asked rhetorically, "Beam me out. Let's go see what the-" I was surrounded by blue light and transported to the Light Cruiser.

When I arrived on the Light Cruiser _Khalia_, the first ship in my command, the ship was at Red Alert. Combat conditions._ There had better be a good reason for me getting sent out here Masers…_. As I walked to the bridge, and strode in, Captain Volga Masers stood and shouted "Admiral on DECK!" and saluted. I returned the salutes of the rest of the crew quickly.

"As you were. Now Captain Masers, what exactly am I here for?" I asked. I looked down at myself. My white and dark orange Admiral's coat was a little blackened from the explosions and dirt I was fighting in, as were my trousers and boots. They'd need a good hand scrubbing when I got back to the Seven Bravo.

"Well Sir, we've picked up a Temporal anomaly and a single intruder entering the system. Starfleet database has nothing on this ship class. I fear it might be a Borg trying to fool us," Captain Masers replied, shaking slightly at the name of the most feared species in the Galaxy. Her Romanian decent was evident in her vampiricly pale skin, and in her electric yellow-green eyes, thin frame and her dyed dark blood red hair. Really scary when you first meet her; after that, she's a push over.

"Throw it up on the Tac display," I ordered. The outline of a strange ship appeared before me, and a long one at that. Nearly three kilometers in length according to the holoprojector. The _Khalia_ was only about 250 meters at best. Gods, we're going to need backup.

"Comms, get messages out to the rest of the Fleet. Unknown Vessel, probably hostile, arrived. Need back up. Five Bravo stays behind to oversee groundside operations. Once they're wrapped up, have them join us," I ordered, "And someone get me a channel to that bloody ship. I'm no Tactical gunslinger. I ask before shooting, and this does not look like no Borg ship I've ever seen. It's not a geometric shape of any form. It's highly irregular, but it's obviously rippling with weapons. Get me a scan of that ship while I'm talking her captain into NOT pasting us."

The crew responded accordingly and Captain Masers offered me to sit in the Kirk chair, but I declined. I typically walk around the bridge in times like this, Starfleet training be dammed.

"Sir, we have a channel open to them. They are identifying themselves as the UNSC _Thunder of Guns_," the coms officer reported, "and the rest of the Fleet is three minutes out. They're repairing some damage done by Romulans."

"Roger that, good work. Patch me through with video feed, or audio," I said.

"Video accepted, coming on main screen." A small woman, about thirty five standard years with brown and blonde hair appeared on the screen. She was dressed in a stark white uniform, with shoulder lapels with three golden stripes on each shoulder. She wore a calm and collected face, but her brown eyes betrayed her inner anxiety and energy to get something moving faster than it was.

I glanced down at my own rank tabs, four full buttons surrounded by a border and felt a little insignificant. After clearing my throat, I addressed her.

"To whom am I speaking?" I asked.

"You first. I have the bigger ship," she replied. So she likes power.

"Well, it is only polite for a female to go first, where I come from, which would be Earth, in case you've heard of it," I replied.

"Earth doesn't have any of your kind. And yes I do recognize the outdated chivalry you are attempting. I am Captain Amelia Amadeus Corr, Captain of the UNSC _Thunder of Guns_. Now who am I speaking to?" she answered proudly.

"I am Admiral Erik Konrad, Commanding Officer Khalian Fleet, Starfleet, United Federation of Planets. This is the USS _Khalia_," I replied politely, "You'll be receiving guests in a few moments. Do not open fire unless you want to be destroyed yourself."


End file.
